Desire in Denial
by shellyxstarscream
Summary: Chris Redfield just started a new job, and a new attitude, with the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. He thinks everything is fine, until things start happening between him and his captian, Albert Wesker...
1. Prologue

Alright, I know I have another CxW on the go, but honestly, the ideas I've had for this one came all at once, and I feel more committed to this one.

I _will_ work on the others, I promise, but I love this one too much not to share.

**Disclaimer; **All characters and most plot is not mine, copyright entirely of _Capcom; Resident Evil series._

**Warning; **None.

* * *

><p><em>Prologue<em>

The squeal of the subway breaks echoed through the vast and empty hallways of the Raccoon City underground. Chris Redfield was already late for his new assignment to an officer in the Raccoon City Police Departments special unit. Barely older than twenty-three, Chris had already managed an impressive career, along with a reputation amongst many prominent officers. By twenty, he had already accomplished far more than many of his older friends and soldiers had accomplished. His attitude had almost lost him everything, and right now, it was threatening his ability to make it to the department at all.

"Come _on_, god damn stupid thing…" he was getting frustrated that his automated subway pass wasn't scanning properly.

"Sir, let me check your card." The subway wasn't busy, and the attendant had been watching his every move.

"_No." _Chris snapped. "I know how to work a card reader." With a final, hard swipe, the machine finally beeped and allowed him to pass though. His large duffle bag presented a bit of a challenge, but he tugged it hard, and it swung forwards, making him stumble. He ran down the hallway and skipped steps down the escalator. Emerging on the nearly empty platform, he looked left then right, and finally up at the digital screen reading out train times. It informed him the next subway was not due for another eight minutes. He sighed to himself, the breeze from the tunnels ruffling his messy brown hair.

Chris was dressed in civilian clothing, his professional gear all shoved sloppily into the green duffle bag. He wore dark green cargo pants and a grey t-shirt that read USAF in black letters across the front that was un-tucked and baggy. He moved his way down the platform and stood a few feet back from the red line, dropping his bag by his boots. Combat boots had become the only type of footwear in his wardrobe, and he had just stopped caring about his hair after he had been discharged from the Air Force. It was messy and dark, sticking up in assorted directions and pressed flat against his head at the back, from his pillow. Just as he began wondering how long these eight minutes would take to pass, a breeze passed through the tunnel as a train on the opposite side moved into the station, bringing with it the distinct smell of an expensive men's perfume.

Chris had been staring down at the tracks, lost in thoughts of his days in the Air Force, and the phone conversation he had had earlier that week. The smell roused him from his thoughts, but he didn't immediately look up to find its source. Aside from the dull rumblings of the subway cars far away, and the occasional overhead voice, Chris had not heard anyone else arrive on the platform. His brow creased, and he moved his eyes up from the tracks, to follow the lines of the floor tiles along the ground to his right. They stopped when they landed on a pair of shiny, black business shoes about six feet away from him. The brief question of why this man was standing so close to him when the whole platform was open came and left as quickly as the thought itself had formed.

Chris moved his eyes from the shoes to the black slacks, allowing his eyes to climb up the legs and torso of their owner, until he reached the man's face. His upper attire was equally lacking in colour, and equally well put together. A white button shirt, top button undone, was tucked loosely into the slacks and belt, covered by a plain, black suit jacket. He wore no tie, and held a briefcase in hand. Chris glanced at the man's face out of the corner of his eye, and seeing that the stranger was staring down the tunnel to his right, Chris turned his head more towards him to study his face.

The man was older than Chris, though not by much, as far as he could tell. His hair was a golden blonde, seeming to have a shimmer about it, despite the unflattering fluorescents of the underground tunnel. It was slicked back, and Chris could see traces of darker blonde and possibly light browns closer to his skull. The way his head was turned gave Chris a perfect outline of his features; sharp cheek bones, a well-defined jaw, and a thin mouth, held in a serious line. He stood several inches taller than Chris, and looked to be almost the same build as him. A breeze stirred again in the tunnel, and a screech of breaks let Chris know that the train was about to pull into the station, but Chris barely seemed to notice. He was almost entranced with this man; perhaps the first man Chris was ever willing admitting to himself to be attractive.

Almost as if he had voiced his thoughts, the man turned his head, in one, fluid motion, and his eyes met Chris's. They were a cold, silvery blue, a colour which Chris had never seen. Chris held the glance with his own pale green eyes a moment longer, before looking down at his feet. He bent slightly, and picked his duffle bag up, forcing himself to not turn and look at his platform mate again. The side of his head was tingly, and Chris had the slightest feeling that he was being studied now. He did his best to keep his casual stance, pretending to read a sign on the wall across from him on the opposite platform. The train pulled up, and Chris stepped forward, allowing other passengers off. He watched the man's reflection in the glass, and saw him step into the car before Chris's own. He sat, facing the next car, and watched the man for his entire trip. After several more stops, he lost sight of the man in the mass of people now crowding the cars.

Chris felt the tingling sensation three more times during his trip into Raccoon City.


	2. Something Left to Prove

Here we go; Chapter 1! Nothing juicy happening yet, but oh look! Our good friend, Barry Burton's already made an appearance.

**Disclaimer; **All characters and most plot is not mine, copyright entirely of _Capcom; Resident Evil series.  
><strong>Warning; <strong>None._

* * *

><p><em>Whoa, you know you keep your hopes up high<br>__and your head down low._

_**- - All I Want, ** **A Day to Remember**_

The paper in Chris Redfield's hand was folded and wrinkled, drops of rain landing on it and making the paper fragile. He squinted, his green eyes through the cool wind that blew in the grey September. An address was scrolled on it, and his duffle bag was heavy on his shoulder. Chris was on his way to meet the chief of Raccoon City, and his new team, at least he hoped. Ever since Barry Burton, an old friend, had phoned him, telling him about a job on a new team in Raccoon City, he had felt hopeful for a positive turn in his life. Chris had been surprised that any type of law enforcement would accept him after his disgrace from the Air Force.

Checking for oncoming traffic, Chris jogged across the street, his bag bouncing against his back, and walking briskly down the street once he had oriented himself. The building of Raccoon City police department stood, large, block like and brown at the end of Ennerdale Street, one of Raccoon's busiest. Police cars dotted the road in front of it, and fat, uniformed men stood sipping at coffees in front of them. Chris approached the building, stuffing the sheet into his pocket. Consulting his watch, he was proud of himself, seeing that it was only five after ten in the morning.

_So far so good, only five minutes late for once. _

The officers regarded him with curiosity, eying his bag and military coloured attire. He suddenly became self conscious of his army issue black boots, and the stiff, uniform way in which his pants were tucked into them. A few trained police dogs were enjoying a game of fetch in the front courtyard, and Chris pulled open the heavy glass doors, welcomed by a light gust of warm air. Inside, the police department opened into a large main room, with a fountain at its center. Multiple doors ran off throughout the room, and a balcony had two large stair cases leading up to it. Chris's eyes ran over the interior, and he nodded.

_Now all you have to do is get a job here. _

He turned around to find a secretary's desk, and a girl, not much older than him typing up documents onto a computer. She looked up when he approached and gave him a polite smile.

"Hello, name?" Her eyes were a very light blue, Chris noticed. _Cute._ He gave her the smile he had given some of the female pilots.

"Redfield." Nerves were tugging at him and he was hoping she knew who he was.

"Are you here for a legal matter, as a trainee or by invitation?" Her tone was no more than polite and routine. No interest in Chris at all, she was sticking to protocol.

"Uhh," Chris was unsure of how to respond. "By invitation...Barry Burton is an old friend of mine? He called about a week ago telling me about..."

"Ah, you're Chris. Barry told me you'd be here today." The mention of Barry had warmed her to Chris a bit. "I'll page him and let him know you're here. Give me one moment." Another polite smile and she turned away from him and picked up a phone. A few words were shared before she hung up and turn back towards him.

"He says he'll be down to meet you in a few minutes. You can hang around the lobby until he gets here." Another polite dismissal and she turned back towards her work. Chris nodded in thanks and turned, looking for a place to sit. After seeing none, he resigned to wandering the lobby.

His eyes moved across the walls, as he took slow steps, art pieces and paintings decorated the place. A large gold plaque took up a small section in the middle of the farthest wall, so Chris wandered over to see what it was, but was disappointed to see it was only honouring the police Chief Irons. Beside that plaque, another gold plate lay on the wall.

_In thanks to the generous donations of Umbrella Corporation and their continued support of the Special Tactics team of Raccoon City. Without their gracious donation- _

"Redfield!" Chris jumped at the sound of his name being called, his reading interrupted. He turned around and grinned as he saw his friend, Barry Burton approaching him, a grin on his face.

"Bear, long time, man!" Chris greeted him with a hug and two stiff pats on the back.

"Too busy sitting at home worrying about your life to call an old friend?" Barry asked with a laugh. He pulled away from Chris and put his hands on his shoulders. "You're lookin' good kid. Sticking with the daily torture?" He laughed again.

Chris frowned and pulled away from Barry, trying to suppress a snort of laughter.

"I'm not allowed to stay fit even if I'm not working?"

"Ah, well, my friend, that's why you are here!" Barry nodded back he way he came. "Come with me, Irons wants to meet ya." Chris bent and scooped up his duffle, walking quickly beside Barry and hoping this wouldn't be the only time he got to move through this building.

"Is the chief nice?" He was worried about needing to impress too many people. Accommodating his attitude to superiors wasn't something Chris Redfield was used to do doing, and was also the reason he had moved from Chicago to Raccoon City in hopes of maybe getting a new job. He had told himself ever since Barry had called him that this would be different; Chris wanted to make a serious change.

"Irons? He's fantastic." Barry nodded at a few people they walked by, all of whom regarded Chris with curious glances. Chris felt a slight bit of relief. _Maybe it won't be so hard to control my temper with a nice boss. _

"Well that's good then. Maybe I'll manage not getting kicked out of the department." They rounded a corner and went down a small set of steps. They emerged in a large, comfortably furnished common room, with a few people in casual dress hanging around.

"What makes you say that?" Barry asked, stopping and turning to face Chris

"Oh, well you know. I have trouble listening, and following orders and all that? Maybe with a nice boss..." Chris trailed off. He didn't know why he had become so obsessed with not letting what happened before happen again.

_Maybe because you got kicked out of the fucking Air Force._

Barry laughed again. "Don't get too comfortable yet, Irons isn't the one you're gonna have to impress. And you aren't here to become a cop, Redfield." This made Chris frown again, but just as he was about to ask what Barry meant, he was told to wait a second for the second time that day. Barry left him in the common area to waste time while he went to get Irons. Nobody paid him much attention, so he busied himself with reading all the bulletins tacked to the wall. Each one was talking about new types of ammunition, the proper way of cleaning a fire arm and regulations for uniform and behaviour when on duty. Three headings with three lists of names were tacked to the wall. Chris's brows grew together and he looked at each one. _S.T.A.R.S. ALPHA, S.T.A.R.S. BRAVO, HOME STAR._ He shrugged, the lists having no meaning to him anyways.

He wandered away from the board and began moving around the room. There were two large hallways, each branching off to his left and right, with a door and a frosted glass window at the end. He heard talking and laughing, muffled, coming from down one hallway, and nothing from the other, the light not even being on.

"You new around here?" Came a voice from Chris' right. He turned around to see who had spoken to him. A young looking guy stood by a table flipping through newspapers, probably not that much older than Chris was.

"Yeah." Chris nodded, studying this new guy. He had a dark red shirt on that said _BRAVO _across the breast, and Chris wondered if that was the name of the team he was on. The guy turned around and held out his hand.

"I'm Joseph Frost, but all the guys here call me Joey." The way he spoke made Chris feel like this was somebody he could easily get along with, and he found himself hoping he was in the process of making a new friend already.

"Chris Redfield." The two shook. "You uh, a member of a team here?"

Joseph laughed. "Yeah, Bravo. Just started last week, we haven't done too much yet. Bravo's team has a full roster though; you must be the recruit Barry recommended for Alpha?"

Chris barely understood a word of this, and his face must have said as much. Joseph gave him a critical look.

"Barry hasn't told you what's what yet?" Chris felt mild annoyed, suddenly, that Barry had brought him here without telling him what was going on. He shook his head.

"My guess," Joseph said, pretending he was conspiring, "is that Burton's brought you here as the last member of Alpha."

"Alpha?" Chris was feeling more and more confused about why he was here.

".R.S. Alpha. S.T.A.R.S. is the new team, formed by Raccoon City as an elite sort of group of ex-military and brainiacs from all over the States" Joseph wandered to a basket which held a small variety of fruit and plucked out an apple, taking a bite. "Special tactics and rescue services. There are two teams, Alpha and Bravo, as well as a small, home based team that Irons has organized himself to sort of direct the other two, called Home Star. Bravo is more of a home based team, probably doing higher up cop work around Raccoon City. Alpha is by far the more elite of the two." Joseph's voice took a bitter tone. "Sort of like Raccoon's own little FBI. Each team has been assembled based on recommendations, volunteers and head hunters, and each is to be led by a captain."

This felt a bit overwhelming to Chris. An elite team? His file said he had retired from the Air Force, but Barry and his old commanders knew the truth. He was almost beyond positive that something this important...there was no way he would stay "retired". His captain, or the chief, somebody would eventually find out that he was kicked out, and then there was not a chance in hell he would stay here. Chris felt discouraged, and that his packed duffle bag had been far too hopeful.

"If you're here, and Irons accepted the recommendation from Burton, chances are you're here for good. Unless your captain says otherwise, but I don't even think they've chosen one for Alpha yet. If he's anything like Enrico, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Enrico's your captain?" Chris asked, looking up.

"Yeah. Just met him two days ago, but he's already awesome. The teams aren't official yet, but everyone on Bravo's already been approved by Enrico. As soon as you get approved by Irons, and your captain gets here and approves Alpha, then S.T.A.R.S. training can begin." Joseph said with a grin, finishing off his apple. "Where you from, anyways?"

"Chicago." This got a laugh from Joseph.

"I mean what type of soldier were you? You're too uniform in the way you dress for you to be a scientist." He burped. "No offence."

"Air Force." Chris said, timidly. Joseph's eyebrows shot up.

"No shit, huh? That must be where you met Barry." Joseph nodded. "I bet you got some serious skills, Chris."

Chris looked at his feet. "I was alright. Where you get plucked from?" Chris was beginning to get what Joseph had meant about how these team members had been selected.

"I'm a Gulf vet. Ex- navy seal, I was asked to come here." He grinned. "Makes you feel kind of good to be asked to be in something so elite."

Barry wandered back into the room, followed by a portly, older man, smoking a cigar. Joseph turned and gave Barry a grin, and nodded to the round man. "Chief Irons."

"Frost, what are you still doing here? There's a celebration going on back in the Bravo common room, shouldn't you be back there getting friendly with your new boss?" He laughed, and Joseph laughed too.

"My boss' boss, telling me to go kiss ass and party. What a place." Joseph turned and wandered down the rowdy hallway. Chris watched him go, and turned to face Chief Irons. He stood straight and gave a stiff nod. "Chief. It's nice to meet you, I'm Chris Redfield."

"Of course it is, son. Good to meet you, good to meet you!" He shook out a thick hand and shook Chris's with surprising force. "Barry Burton here tells me a lot about you. Says you were a top dog in your squadron? Let me tell you, based on what I've read and heard from Barry, you're going to be all that Alpha needs." He laughed a deep laugh again. "Well, that and a captain. Although, apparently one is on his way down here later this week."

"Ah, we'll be able to start training at last!" Barry laughed again. Chris felt jittery.

_If your captain accepts you as easily as the chief does, you're in._

"Barry didn't tell me a whole lot about S.T.A.R.S., but that Joseph kid filled me in." Chris said, shooting Barry a dark look; he had enough decency to at least pretend to look ashamed.

"I thought if I had explained what it was, you wouldn't have come." He said. Chief Irons laughed.

"Well, I just wanted to meet you face to face Mr. Redfield. Barry here can fill you in on most everything else." He looked Chris up and down. "A bit small, but I think you'll fit in just fine. Excellent experience, I'm sure once your captain gets into town, you'll make a damn good impression on him." Chris couldn't help the reluctance tugging at his confidence.

"I sure hope I do, sir." Chris said, giving another stiff nod. Barry gave him a look of approval and Chris felt proud at his politeness.

"I better be off, just wanted to see him for myself. You've done well, Burton." Irons gave Barry a pat on the shoulder, and turned to grin at Chris again. A puff of smoke moved from his cigar and circled his head. "It was nice meetin' you, Redfield. I'm not technically supposed to do anything for the teams, but you'll probably see me once or twice more before your captain gets here." He shook Chris's hand again. "Barry, take Chris down to the Alpha common room, show him where his bunk is, he can share with you since the others aren't here to complain. As for me, I'm back to the donut lovers upstairs." A final nod and a grin, and chief Irons left. Barry turned to Chris and raised his eyebrows.

"So far so good, eh?" He laughed. "Come on, kid. I'll show you what's what." He led Chris down the hall with the darkened doorway. Pulling out a key, he unlocked it and went inside, flicking on a light. The pair stepped into the room and Barry shut the door behind them. Inside was a large, open area, with half a dozen couches and chairs, all of which looked relatively comfortable. There were several tables with chairs around them, and some smaller, flat tables set up in front of the couch. On the walls were more of the same things that had been on the bulletins. There were a few hallways, and one main hallway at the end, with several doors leading down.

"This is the common area." Barry said, sweeping his hand around. "In here is where the team will meet, be given duties, assignments, hang out in spare time, clean the weapons, and on and on." He gestured to the first long hallway to the right. "Down there is the gym, it's got a track, a weight room, cardio machines, we'll do all of our fitness and fight training in there." Chris wanted to go look and see, but apparently this was just his orientation. Barry pointed down the second long hallway to the left. "Down there is the pool. It's great, you can use it whenever you want, water's always perfect. A small room branches off for the showers, along with the change room and washrooms. That wide hallway right in front of us is home away from home. Pick up your bag, kid." Chris shouldered the bag and followed Barry down the hallway.

He pointed into a large room, with a long narrow table, seats and a projector. "That's the board room. Captain's meetings, more important discussions, and Bravo Alpha meetings will happen in there." He pointed into a room just down the hallway from that one, another wide, office looking room. A large, empty desk sat in the middle, with a plain looking office chair were all that sat in it. "That will be the captain's office. Of course he's too good to do his paper work where everyone else does theirs." Barry laughed.

Next were three doors on the right, all with a wide space in between them, and one final door at the end of the hall. Barry gestured to each of the three doors in turn. "These are where, as I understand it, we sleep during the week, and we go home on the weekends. That's why I told you to bring some stuff." The first room had the door shut in two, but the next was open, and Chris saw a pile of stuff on the bed, books lining the desk and a bunch of clothes draped over the edge of the upper bunk.

"I haven't met any of the other team mates, hell; I don't even know their names. But Irons told me there are three guys, including you and me, one girl and our captain. He thinks it's only fit the female gets a room to herself, but that means one guy gets a room to himself and the other two have to share. Looks like he's already set up in that one." Barry pointed to the room filled with stuff. "But when we all meet on Friday, I say you, me and him draw straws to see who gets to sleep alone and who shares. For now, I've taken this one." He swung open the last door and the one closest to the shut room at the end of the hall.

Inside, Chris grinned to see Barry's accustomed tidy layout, a photo of his family sat on one of the desks, and all of his stuff was piled on the bottom bunk.

"Hope you don't mind the top." He laughed. Chris laughed too.

"Not at all." He looked back out into the hallway. "What about that room on the end?"

"That's where the captain will sleep." Barry took Chris's bag from him and slung it up onto the top bunk. "Well. That's pretty much the deal for now, kid. Captain is supposed to get in on Friday, so Irons told the team to come in early to get to know one another beforehand. Until then, you get the week off." He winked at Chris, and Chris grinned in return.

"If we're done here, what do you say you take me for the best pizza in town?" He asked the older man. Barry smirked at him.

"Not even been with me a full 24 hours, and already I'm buyin' you meals."

Chris felt good, the feeling of a routine shining hopefully in front of him. All that stood between him and his new life was a captain he knew nothing about.

Yet.

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><p>Poor Chris, he has no idea what he's getting into.<p>

Hope you guys like the first chapter, PLEASE leave me tons of reviews, I love hearing what you guys think!

More to come very soon.


	3. An Introduction

Oh God, I'm one of those authors that takes ages to update. I'm sorry, but university really caught up with me! Now that I'm done for the year, I'll have plenty of time to write and update, so hopefully I haven't lost any of you guys as readers!

So, without further ado, here's chapter 2, and oh, who's this? We're meeting Wesker, now things can get fun.

**Disclaimer; **All characters and most plot is not mine, copyright entirely of _Capcom; Resident Evil series.  
><em>**Warning; **Mild language.

* * *

><p>Chris was lying on the upper bunk with his feet on the wall, and an issue of 'Guns'n'Ammo' propped against his knees. He was reading over the newest issued models of hand guns, and was practically drooling over them. It was Thursday evening, and after four days of working out, swimming, and going back and forth from his apartment to the police department, he was more than ready to meet his captain the next day. It had been a long week, and the nervousness he'd felt on the first day had only grown as the days had gone on. He'd received no more information about his captain-to-be than he had on his first day there. The week had been spent wandering around Raccoon City's various streets and areas, sniffing out bars and good pizza and burger joints. Chris had even called to invite Claire to come and visit him, and she had agreed to in the next couple of weeks.<p>

Raccoon City had proven to be an interesting place after all. The subways were easy enough to get around on, and there were plenty of places he could kill time. His apartment was about a half hour subway ride away from the police department, but if he wanted to, he could easily walk there. _Maybe in the spring_. He had thought as he wandered back through the department.

He yawned loudly as he flipped through the magazine. Once he had met Brad Vickers, he and Barry had drawn straws with him to determine the fate of the single bedroom. Two days, a bit of moving, and some grumbling later, Chris sat with his back against propped up pillows on the large, flat bed in the singe room, his clothes strewn across the floor already, and a pile of ammo magazines beside his bed. The room was plain, even though he'd decorated it with a number of posters he'd acquired in the Air Force. A model plane sat atop the shelf on the wall, and a few books, not that he ever read them.

When he got to the last page of the magazine, he flipped it shut and added it to the pile. He sat up and stretched, scratching the back of his head. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, stood, and stretched again. His stomach growled noisily, and he looked to the clock. It read 9:35, and he frowned. It was too late, and he was too lazy to out anywhere, and had resigned himself to lazing around the Alpha common room all night. The next day would be the last day he would be here without having duties to do.

_Possibly the last day here, period._ Chris had also been filling his head with all the possibilities of what his captain would be like over the course of the week. During his time in the Air Force, he'd heard some horror stories, about recruits with horrible bosses, who would work them nonstop and make them do loads of extra work if they didn't live up to expectations. He'd heard of bosses that you could never impress, and captains that didn't train them at all. From what he'd seen of Enrico, his hopes had been lightened a bit. _That's Bravo's captain. Alpha's will be more of a hard ass_. He thought, miserably.

Chris had decided to go see if there was anything to eat by the coffee table in the S.T.A.R.S. lounge area, so he was walking down the hallway, and out into the Alpha common room. The room was empty, except for Jill Valentine. He hesitated in the doorway when he saw her, and she looked up at him once he had entered the room, giving him a smile.

"Hi, Chris." She said. She arrived the previous day, and Chris had been completely relieved when he saw her. Jill was pretty, and she seemed nice enough to be on a team with. She wasn't totally useless in the gym either, and gave him a run for his money when they had swam laps together the previous night.

"Hi, Jill." He returned. Jill was sitting with her feet up on the couch, and a book propped against her knees. She was wearing a plain grey sweater, and black track pants. Her short brown hair hung loose around her head, and she wore no makeup. _Not that she needs any._ He thought to himself. That whole day he'd been trying to think of ways to get Jill to go to get a coffee with him, but he hadn't gotten her alone. Everyone on Alpha, and Bravo seemed to like Jill, and she'd only been there for twenty-four hours. _You've got competition for the only girl on S.T.A.R.S._

"Where are you going?" She asked, slipping a bookmark into the book.

"Just to get something to eat, I've got munchies." He laughed. Jill laughed too.

"There's not much out there. Unless you plan on walking somewhere."

"No...and shit, really?" As if in response, his stomach grumbled again. "Oh well, guess I'll just wait until the morning."

Jill swung her feet off the couch, and reached down into a bag he hadn't noticed. "Here, I don't really want it." She pulled out a brown paper bag. "It's a banana muffin."

Chris smiled, and closed the distance, walking over and taking the bag from her. "Thanks, are you sure?"

She nodded, and wiggled the bag, the muffin crinkling against the paper inside. "Yeah, go for it."

He took it and stuck his hand inside, pulling off half and stuffing it in his mouth. "Thanks." His voice was muffled with crumbs, and he felt himself blush a little.

She snickered at him. "No problem. I'm going to swim a few laps then go to bed. Gotta be up early." She stood and stretched. "Are you nervous to meet our captain tomorrow?"

Chris felt his heart squirm, and he shifted his weight from his right foot to his left. "A bit." He confessed. "I uh, I have a bad history with authority."

"Oh, a bad boy, huh?" She laughed. "I'm sure he'll be fine." She stopped and frowned. "Or she."

Chris looked at his feet. _Yeah, a history of telling them to fuck off, and that I'll do what the fuck I want. _Barry had been hinting all week that one hint of that attitude would get him kicked out of the freaking city. He dug the toe of his foot into the floor, and shrugged. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

"That's good. Well, I'll see you in the morning. Brad told me Irons let him know our Captain would be here around 10." She bent over and picked up the bag, swinging it over her shoulder.

Chris nodded, grim faced. "10. Got it." He looked at Jill, and thought about her swimming, changing into her suit, slipping into the water...

"Uh.." he coughed a bit, and walked quickly to the door to the dorms, pausing only once he had his back to her. "Thanks, for the uh..." he held up the bag, and Jill laughed again.

"Let's say you owe me." She said with a wink. "Goodnight."

"Night." Chris said, watching her turn and walk away. _You owe me._ There was no way Chris would let himself hope for a date, but maybe...

He sighed and kept walking until he got to his bedroom, slipping inside and closing the door. The bag crumpled around the leftover muffin, and he tossed it onto the desk. He tugged the shirt off his chest and let it drop to the floor, along with his pants, slipping into bed clad in his boxers. He stared up at the ceiling, and sighed again. After several moments empty thought, he pulled the blankets over himself, clicked off the light, and drifted off to sleep, with the image of Jill's smile behind his eyes, and wondering thoughts of his captain, whom he would be meeting first thing the next morning.

* * *

><p>"Redfield, up!" Chris woke with a start, Barry shaking his foot. A dull stream of sunlight came from the long, narrow window above the bed. Rubbing his eyes and grumbling, he heard Barry chuckle. "It's Friday, kid. Know what that means?"<p>

Chris's heart did some impossible feeling flop, and an image of an absurdly large and mean looking man popped into his mind. "Captain day." He felt green. _Get ready to pack and leave, and say bye to Brad and Barry. And Jill_.

"You got it, and you're behind schedule already." Barry said throwing the clothes Chris had draped over the back of his desk chair onto the end of Chris's bed. Chris sat bolt upright, his head spinning slightly from the sudden movement.

"What, no I...he's here already?" Panic set into Chris, and Barry laughed again, but this time more gently.

"Buddy, you gotta calm down." He shook his head at Chris, and Chris gulped.

"This is basically my last chance, Barry. My very, very, _very_ last chance. I can't..." he sighed. "If I fuck this up, I'll be stuck working at burger joints for the rest of my life and I can't do that."

Barry smiled at Chris and went over to him, patting him on the shoulder.

"You said you've turned yourself around and you'll take this seriously, and I have faith in you." He turned and walked to the door. "And no, you aren't late. Irons said he'll be coming to see us at 10. It's 9:30." He closed the door behind him, leaving Chris sitting alone in the bed.

_Why are you freaking out, Chris, calm down. Just remember to be calm and do as you're told. The rest of the world can do it so why can't you._ He pushed the covers aside and stretched for a few minutes. He tugged his dark green pants over his boxers, and pulled on a white shirt that said "S.T.A.R.S." in bold, navy blue print across the back. He sat down and laced up his boots, sighing again and going out into the hallway. For all the panic he felt inside, the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha area was as quiet and calm as it had been all week. He walked down the hall and into the common room. Brad was filling a coffee cup, and nodded a hello to Chris, which Chris returned. He walked down the right to the washrooms, and nearly collided with Jill. Her hair was wet and she smelled really good. Chris smiled at her.

"Oh, hey Chris." She gave him a smile. "Nervous?"

He gave her what he hoped was a casual shrug. "Nah, I can do this." She smiled and walked away, and Chris found himself wishing he could believe his own words. He went into the men's washroom to find Barry flossing his teeth in the mirror. Chris avoided him by walking quickly down to the bathrooms themselves to pee, and wash his hands and face, before going back to the main room. Barry was finishing up and Chris went over to his cupboard and took out his toothbrush and toothpaste.

"What if he's the biggest dick in the world?" Chris began scrubbing his teeth, as if the cleaner he was, the better impression he'd make.

"He damn well could be, and you know it." Chris gave Barry a filthy stare in the mirror and spit.

"Thank you for your kind support, not like I'm scared I'll get fired again or anything." Barry sighed.

"This isn't the Air Force." He said quietly. "You know what Office Todd said, your record officially says "_retired"_. This new guy won't know, okay?"

Chris shoved his stuff back into the cupboard and rubbed his eyes.

"Damn it, I hope you're right."

The two of them left the bathroom, and walked back to the common area, where Jill and Brad were hanging about. Chris looked up at the clock and saw that it read 9:55. _Any minute now._

Almost right after he had thought it, the door opened and Chief Irons walked in, followed by a tall, blonde man. Chris frowned and studied him a bit closer. _Hey, I know that guy..._ Chris's mind flashed to the subway the previous Monday, to the blonde man who had stood so close to him and given him that unfaltering stare. Chris shuffled nervously, and backed slightly behind Barry.

"Hello my Alphas," Irons said with a deep chuckle. "I've just spent the past two hours chatting with your new Captain over coffee, and I'm pleased to say he's anxious to meet and get to know his new team. So, I'd like to introduce you all to your captain, Albert Wesker."

Wesker stepped forward and nodded to Chief Irons, and turned to study the four standing in front of him. He was dressed much more accordingly now, dark grey pants tucked with boots similar to Chris's own. His shirt was navy blue, that said S.T.A.R.S . in small white letters across the breast, and buttoned up the front. It was neatly tucked into his pants, and a gun strap was across his left thigh, though no gun was in it. A pair of sunglasses hung from his breast pocket, and his blonde hair was still perfectly slicked back. When his eyes moved to Chris, he held the gaze a moment, making Chris feel uncomfortable shifting from foot to foot.

"I'm sure Wesker's got some plans to get to know each of you, and what he wants to do, so I'll leave him to it!" Irons turned to Wesker, holding out a thick hand. "Best of luck to you, you've got a fantastic team here from what I've seen and heard."

Wesker took Irons hand and shook it, nodding his thanks. Irons gave a wave to the four of them, and turned, closing the common room door behind them. Wesker stood looking at them, folding his hands behind his back and beginning to pace.

"If you're all standing here, it means that Chief Irons saw something in your literary records that stood out to him. He believes you have a unique quality that he deemed useful enough to earn you a place on a new and elite team. Irons brought each of you here, and each of you he has deemed good enough." Wesker paused, looking again at each of them in turn. Chris shifted his weight again, and did his best to look attentive. "I am not Chief Irons."

_That's it, you're gone._ Chris thought. Wesker's voice was different than Chris had imagined it. In his head, Wesker and sounded like a news reporter, or one of those guys from the business channel on TV. Wesker's voice was deep, and accented very slightly, his tone serious. Chris wondered where he was from originally, although it was hardly noticeable.

"While you've all impressed the chief, he is not in charge of you. I am." He paced again, and Chris's eyes followed his every step. "You've all been active and occupied this week, which is good to see. It gave me time to establish myself in the captain's office, and gather together a file of information on each of you." Chris's heart did a flop, and he was alarmed to hear that Wesker had been there the entire week. _He was watching us. It was a test. Jesus, he's already pushing us and we haven't even done anything yet._ "I can assure you, my own research was much more thorough than the Chief's." He gave an almost pointed stare at Chris, and his stomach felt as if it fell through his feet. _He knows, oh God, he knows he knows I was kicked out, he knows._ So far, Chris did not at all like the feel of Wesker. He seemed strict, and hardened against any form of misbehaviour. Any and all hope of Chris' secured position on Alpha was very quickly becoming compromised, it seemed.

"Today, I'll be speaking with each of you individually in my office. Nothing too difficult for any of you, I hope." Chris heard Barry chuckle, and he looked at him, alarmed. He stole a glance of Jill too, and was again alarmed to see that she had a smile on her face. Brad, too, seemed unbothered by their captain. Chris realized he was the only one who had anything on the line here. "I'll let you know what I expect of each of you, and it will give you an opportunity to let me know anything that you'd like me to. I'll begin with Ms. Valentine." Jill nodded, and followed Wesker to the office he now occupied. As he passed by, the smell of cologne that Chris had noticed on the subway went by with him, and it wasn't until Wesker's office door closed that Chris let himself collapse onto the couch.

"I'm so done. I'm done, I'm just finished." He said, draping an arm over his eyes. He heard Barry chuckle, and heard Brad laugh, too.

"I like him." Barry said, dropping into an armchair and stretching out his legs. "I think he'll be good."

"Yeah, me too." Brad nodded in agreement. "He seems like he's gonna get a lot done with us."

"Maybe for you guys." Chris muttered.

"Why do you say that?" Brad asked, eyebrow raised. Chris sat up and shrugged.

"I uh, no...no reason, I just..."

"Chris here has a past issue regarding authority." Barry said, smirking. Chris felt like throwing something at him.

"Oh, well, don't uh, don't disregard his authority then." Brad said with a shrug. Chris groaned and let his head fall back.

After what seemed like ages, the office door opened and Jill emerged. Chris's head snapped upright, and she gave them all a grin.

"You're up Brad." Brad rose, and wandered off to the room, closing the door behind him.

"How was it? What did he say, what did he ask you?" Chris threw at her. Jill laughed, and sat where Brad had been sitting.

"It was just fine, Chris. He seems like he's going to be good for us." She nodded.

"What sorta stuff did he tell you?" Barry asked.

"Just that we'll be focusing on organized crime and drug trade in the city." She shrugged. "Nothing overly exciting."

Chris sat anxiously until Brad came out, and all through Barry's time in the office.

_He saved you for last._

* * *

><p>"That will be all, thank you." Wesker flipped closed the impressive file of Barry Burton, and watched the man rise from the chair in front of him. "Send in Redfield." Barry nodded, and thanked Wesker for whatever it was he was thankful for. Whether it be for his secured position on the team, or for giving him off-hand comments on his resume, he neither knew nor cared. What Wesker was interested in was the last file sitting on the table in front of him.<p>

_Chris Redfield._ It read, and the file was thick for such a young recruit. Wesker had not yet spoken to Chris face to face, but he recalled having seen him on the subway earlier that week. Chris Redfield's name had come up early on, his being the first name that Irons told him about. An aspiring young officer, who had been kicked off of the Air Force, covered by an interesting fiction of his 'early retirement'. _He'll be the best of all of them._ Wesker thought to himself.

The door of his office creaked open, and Wesker looked up at Chris, who was giving him a pale faced stare.

"Redfield. Close the door and take a seat." He flipped open the cover of Chris's file, and he could almost hear the brunette gulp. It was all Wesker could do not to smirk. Making Chris Redfield uncomfortable was the most entertaining thing Wesker had done all day.

* * *

><p>Ahh, feels good to post another chapter. Let me know what you guys think so far, and thank you for sticking around. The next chapter will come along much much faster, I promise.<p> 


	4. It's Official

HOLY TITS BATMAN. That's a bit of time since my last update. Alas! I have not forgotten those of you who have told me to keep writing, life simply caught up to me. ANYWAYS. Here's the next chapter, I know it's not much, but I promise to write more!

Also - just in case anything were to ever happen (KNOCK ON WOOD!) to my fics on here, I've posted a link to my tumblr, and my livejournal on my profile. I'll be updated my fics to there, so feel free to follow/friend me 3

**Disclaimer; **All characters and most plot is not mine, copyright entirely of _Capcom; Resident Evil series._

**Warning; **None.

* * *

><p>Chris was uncharacteristically nervous, fiddling anxiously as he sat across the table from his new captain. Each member of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha was being individually assessed, in order for their captain to get to know each of his team members. He was currently sitting with one arm resting in front of him on the desk, the other propped up by his elbow, fingers holding the sheets of paper, turning them slowly one by one once he finished reading. He hadn't said a word to Chris since he had first come in the room and the two had shaken hands. Chris had taken a seat and shifted his weight nervously once Wesker dropped the folder on the table and began reading through the pages. The inside of Chris's lip was numb from chewing it, knowing full well what the pages of his file said about his past. Chris had always had an issue following orders and respecting his authority figures. But this one was different, somehow. Chris had, since first being introduced, had an unwavering, definite notion that he would give this captain, Albert Wesker, the required respect and loyalty.<p>

This time, spent sitting in front of Wesker, was the first time Chris had really gotten to look at him. Since that first day, Chris hadn't seen Wesker on the subway again. Wesker was someone that made Chris feel overly self-conscious and very anxious. He had perfect blonde hair that decent lighting made even more enviable. Not a strand was misplaced. He was well groomed, free of stubble, and smelling like the expensive cologne Chris had smelled on the subway platform. Chris stared at the folder in Wesker's hand. _It says retired. It says it. He can't possibly know you got kicked out. He can't, he just can't._

Twenty three minutes had already gone by, and Chris's anxiety had only increased. He was sitting stiffly in the chair, having abandoned his usual slouch. Had it been even just one year prior, he'd have been reclined, with an arm hanging off the back of the chair the other resting on his knee. Now his back was flat against the back of the chair, his feet flat on the floor and his hands clenched together and wedged in between his knees. Each time his Captain's brow furrowed, or he frowned at the sheets, or even just took a moment or two longer to read a page, Chris's body would tense, his jaw clenching, hands tightening. He would only relax once Wesker would turn to the next page, or his brow would un-furrow. Apart from those few brief movements, Wesker hardly showed any visible reaction to Chris's file.

To stop from worrying that he was about to get dismissed from the team, he studied his new captain more as he read over the file. His green eyes travelled along the smooth, exposed skin of his captain's arm, studying the fine muscles, up to where the sleeves of the navy blue S.T.A.R.S. shirt were bunched, just at his elbow. Despite the looseness of the shirt, Chris could still see the outline of well-built biceps and broad shoulders. Though Wesker didn't look like he was all that much bigger than Chris, he actually questioned whether or not he would win in a physical fight with his captain. Wesker was taller than Chris too, by a good few inches, and Chris didn't doubt that Wesker could outrun him. The thought passed through Chris's mind as to how good a shot Wesker was, and he imagined the two of them competing in the shooting range. He wondered if he would beat him.

_If he doesn't kick my ass off the team, maybe I'll find out._

Wesker lifted his hand off the desk and ran it absent-mindedly through his hair. Chris watched him do it, then place his arm back on the table as it had been. Chris' eyes stayed on Wesker's hair, studying how perfectly blonde it was, and how not a single strand was out of place. It hadn't needed the hand run through it, and Chris wondered if that was a habit his captain had. He frowned to himself, slightly, thinking self-consciously of his own brown hair, and how it stuck up messily. _I hate buzzing my hair like all the other soldiers. I look like Jughead. _He vaguely wondered if he should try slicking his own hair back. _It'd probably look stupid if I did it._ He thought miserably. Sitting before Wesker's obsessive good looks was really doing damage to Chris's own view of himself. Just as Chris had taken his eyes off of his captain's head and started studying his hands again, he heard the file being closed and pushed aside on the table. His heart did a strange flop, and his stomach felt as though it twisted. He looked up anxiously, and saw Wesker looking across the table at him. The blonde sat back and folded his arms across his chest. Chris spoke first.

"I – I know it isn't the...the _best_ um, record, I guess, for a soldier to have. But, I just want you to know that I'm trying hard, really hard, actually, to put that all behind me. I want a new start, and I know it seems hopeless. I mean, my issue. With authority, and following orders, but I actually really want to be on this team. And I uh, well. Uh, you just, seem, different. You know, than my other captains. I guess." He finished, lamely, feeling a burning in his cheeks. _What's wrong with you, it's like your apologizing to your grade school teacher or something._

Wesker said nothing, and Chris couldn't tell what sort of look his captain had, since his eyes were hidden behind dark shades. A vague annoyance passed through him, realizing that he had a pet peeve of people wearing sunglasses indoors. When Chris finished his explanation, he could've sworn he saw the hints of a smirk tugging the corner of Wesker's mouth.

"I _am_ different than your other captains, Redfield. They gave you chances and fair warning before asking you to leave. I won't." His voice had a hard edge to it. "I will not put up with disobedience or back talk. You will do as I say when I say it, or you will be without a job, and I will personally see to it that you never find another job in this field of work again. I certainly hope I am making myself clear."

Chris swallowed hard. It sounded to him as though Wesker was _not_ immediately dismissing him. "Yes sir. I promise that I will try my best to do as you sa-"

"No, Redfield. You will not _try._ You just will. This is your first and only chance with me" Wesker said firmly. He hadn't raised his voice to Chris, nor had he said it rudely. His voice had a natural tone of superiority in it; it was a voice that demanded obedience. Chris swallowed again.

"Yes, sir." His hands where still clasped tightly in between his knees, and his heart was still doing strange flops in his chest. He wanted so desperately to have his captain's approval. He felt he had to prove he was a good soldier. That he wasn't just a rebellious kid.

Wesker sat a moment longer before standing up and picking up Chris' file. Chris jumped to his feet, checking his hip off the edge of the desk. He held in a grunt of pain, not wanting to show even the slightest sign of weakness, but he could feel a blush creep into his cheeks. Wesker couldn't help the smirk this time.

"I'll say this, Redfield; you have much potential. And I will see to it that I do the best I can to bring that potential out." He held out the file for Chris to take. "I am looking forward to having you on my team, Chris."

Chris couldn't help but grin, despite the throbbing pain in his hip. "I'll do my best not to let you down, sir." He said confidently, straightening himself to full height and trying his best to look impressive. "And thank you, sir. I'm looking forward to having you as my captain." He felt his ears burn pink as soon as he had said it. Wesker took his seat again, still smirking to himself, as Chris turned to rejoin his team, still smiling to himself. He had gotten his captain's approval, and that was good enough for him.

* * *

><p>"Cheers to us, guys and Jill." Barry tipped his head towards Jill, raising his glass a bit higher to her. She laughed and tipped her glass at him, too. "We're all officially accepted by our straight faced captain. For some of us," Barry's eyes flicked to Chris, and Chris smirked and shook his head. "this is a very welcome surprise. So, in honor of our newly found superiority within the crime stopping community, congratulations to us, S.T.A.R.S. Alpha!" The four of them held their glasses up and clinked them together. Jill, Barry, Chris and Brad all sat around a small round table at the Raccoon Pub, two blocks from the RPD. Barry had instantly demanded that they all go out for drinks. Wesker and declined, saying he had some final paper work to fill out to make Alpha official. There was a S.T.A.R.S. dinner party the following Saturday, being held by Chief Irons. but Barry hadn't wanted to wait.<p>

Between them all, a plate of nachos, a round of beers and two huge plates of chicken wings sat on the table. Chris hadn't believed that they were his new team, he hadn't believed Wesker hadn't kicked him out. He barely knew the man, but just in that brief time alone with him, Chris hadn't gotten the impression that he was very understanding.

"I, for one, am excited to see what sort of stuff we'll be doing." Jill said, taking a handful of nachos and stuffing them into her mouth. Chris smiled at her; for a girl, she sure could eat.

"Me too." Brad added, munching on a carrot stick. "I just hope Wesker, you know, assigns us right. Er, appropriately." Brad, Chris was coming to know, was the quiet one of the bunch. Rooted in science, Chris knew he would be much more comfortable sitting behind a computer than running with a gun.

"I'm sure our captain won't make you marksman, don't you worry." Jill said, patting him on the arm. Barry laughed.

"Oh, I think I know who'll get _that_ specific honor." He nodded to Chris. Jill and Brad turned to look at him too. Chris shook his head, taking a deep sip of beer.

"There is not one chance in hell." He said, truly believing it. "I'm lucky I'm here at all."

"C'mon, why are you being so hard on yourself?" Jill asked. Chris sighed. _If I'm here with them for good, they at least deserve to know. They're your team._

_ "_Well…I haven't been entirely honest." He said, glancing around the bar. It was a loud, rowdy place, filled with all sorts of Raccoon city locals. "I sort of, um…before this, I uh…"

"Oh, just spit it out, will ya?" Barry laughed. "Chris got kicked out of the Air Force before this." Chris almost choked on the mouthful of beer.

"_Barry!"_ He coughed. Jill's eyes were wide and Brad's jaw dropped.

"How exactly do you get _'kicked out' _of the Air Force?" Jill asked, incredulously. Chris made a face at Barry, annoyance filling him. Barry was a loud mouth when he'd been drinking.

"It's, it's really not…" Chris sighed. "I didn't want to take shit from them, so they didn't take shit from me. They gave me one last chance; I blew it, end of." He frowned, and stuffed some more nachos into his mouth. Frustration was swelling inside in towards Barry, and he was going to give him hell later.

"Chris, that's really-"

"Look, just drop it." Chris snapped at Jill. The chair screeched against the floor as Chris pushed away from the table and turned, stalking out of the grill. His heart was pounding in his chest, and it didn't slow until her reached the cool autumn breeze outside. _Fuck._ Already, he was regretting snapping at Jill. She was just curious, as anyone would be hearing about someone who got kicked out of the Air Force. _Probably wondering how I held my shit against a tight ass like Wesker._

The thought of his captain made the fit of anger he'd just felt swell a bit more. The conversation between him and his newest superior and been sitting uncomfortably in his mind all day. _Stupid son of a bitch thinks he can scare me into doing whatever he wants…_ Chris closed his eyes and breathed. _No. No no no, he's just doing what any captain would do. He gave you a chance. He kept you here._ Chris felt jittery, and he instinctively patted his pockets, pulling out his box of smokes and shaking one free. Once the cigarette was lit, he inhaled deeply and let his eyes close.

_No, he took his god damned time, he made you wait. He's going to be a fucking god damn mothefucking…_

"Chris!" The hand on his arm, and voice next to him made him jump. His angry, rambling thoughts had been consuming him so much that he hadn't even noticed Jill chase after him. Her cheeks were pink from the cool air, and her brown hair was tossed by the wind. September was cool this year, and Chris was worried about how cold winter would be. Jill hadn't grabbed her jacket, so she hadn't anticipated running halfway up the street. _She didn't have to run after you, but she did._

"Hey, I'm sorry, I-"

"No, I'm the one that's sorry." Jill interrupted. "I had no business prying like that. Barry obviously said something he wasn't supposed to say, and then I had to go and carry on with it. It was stupid on my part, so…I'm sorry." She was still out of breath from jogging after him, and Chris felt like a huge asshole. He sighed, taking a drag on the cigarette, before dropping it and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot.

"It's fine, I'm just not used to people knowing about it." A wave of guilt went over him. _It's Barrys fault, not hers._ "Just, just don't tell anyone else, okay?"

"Of course I won't." Jill folded her arms across her chest. She was wearing the plain blue S.T.A.R.S. t-shirt, and the cool breeze must have been getting to her. "You gonna come back?"

Chris thought for a moment, before shaking his head. "I'm tired." He said by way of excuse. "I think I'm going to head back to the station and collapse." Jill nodded, but Chris could have sworn she seemed…disappointed? _She only just met you, don't be an idiot._ "I'll uh, I'll see you tomorrow. I guess."

"Yeah." Jill nodded, again. "See you." With a smile, she turned and jogged back to the bar entrance. Chris sighed.

That was the second conversation of the day that he knew he'd be thinking about for the entire weekend.

* * *

><p>It was midnight when Chris finally collapsed in bed. He'd gotten back to the police station an hour and a half earlier, but had been so cold he decided to take a hot shower. The Alpha common room had been vacant, all its usual occupants back at the bar. Chris hadn't the faintest clue where Wesker was, nor did he particularly care. <em>Probably planning our rounds of torture for the following week.<em> He thought, glumly. Chris had the impending feeling that Wesker was going to pick on him. The light in both Wesker's office and bedroom were off when Chris had walked by, and he was the only one in the bathroom. He had seen any activity in the gym or pool area, and hadn't walked by him upstairs either. _Probably just went home_.

It was Friday night, well, technically Saturday morning, and Chris was happy that they had the weekend off. Wesker had informed them that normally, they were free to go home for the weekend and return to work on Monday. They would be on-call at all times, but if they weren't on duty during the week, or running patrols, or investigating cases, the team was allowed to do as they pleased. Chris planned on taking a lot of power naps whenever his movements around the city took him anywhere near his apartment.

The room was dark, and the sheets were cool from the artificial air that circulated the dorm rooms. Chris found himself almost wishing he hadn't won the solo room, although even if he hadn't, that wouldn't change the fact that Brad and Barry were both still out with Jill. Chris felt his eyes going heavy, and was in the beginning phases of drifting off to sleep, until he heard the footsteps in the hallway.

At first, Chris imagined it was Brad, half carrying, half dragging a drunk Barry to the double room, or maybe Jill…no. Not Jill. The steps were two heavy. _And silent._ Chris frowned into the darkness and opened his eyes. The room was clearer now, though only visible in shades of grey, marked in shadow. Chris frowned to himself, propping his weight on a bent arm. Thought his eyes had adjusted, he still had to squint to see the shadow of someone standing just outside his doorway.

_Who…_ The only one there, that he knew of, was Wesker. At least, that was the only person who made sense. _But why in the hell would he stand outside my door while I'm sleeping._

Chris found himself holding his breath. _Maybe he thinks I'm drunk and passed out in my own vomit, or…_ The footsteps moved down the fall, fading, and followed by the sound of the door at the end of the hallway closing. The brunette exhaled in the darkness, and collapsed back against the pillows.

_ Well, that was fucking weird._

* * *

><p>Well, there you go!<br>Weird, huh, what was Wesker doing outside of Chris's bedroom? (ehem, if that even was Wesker...*ahem*thoughitwasletsfaceit*ahem*

UNTIL NEXT TIME, and like always, reviews are much appreciated!


	5. Bruising Over

I feel like this irresponsible mother who told her kids she was going to the grocery store and she'd be right back, and disappeared for ten years. A new year, a new season, a new everything. I. Am. Sorry.

I feel as if all the readers I had will have quit on me by now, and I'm posting a chapter to nobody. I have no excuse, other than life caught up to me. University, a job, a relationship...it's amazing how all the time just disappears.

But I'm here, and I'm here with a new chapter. I've made the promise before, but this time I really mean it, I won't forget you guys again!

**Disclaimer; **All characters and most plot is not mine, copyright entirely of _Capcom; Resident Evil series._

**Warning; **Violence, language.

* * *

><p>Wesker roughly grabbed Chris and threw him on the floor. Chris grunted and dodged before his newest captain could land a swift kick to his stomach. He got to his feet quickly, but stumbled in trying to steady himself. It was just enough time for him to see Wesker run at him, but not enough time to defend himself against the oncoming attack. Chris was tackled and sent skidding backwards until he slammed in the wall, grunting again at the impact.<p>

"Redfield, come on! You can do it!" He recognized Jill's voice. He would have smiled if he hadn't been in pain. It had only been one week of knowing her, but he already felt closer with her than he did with any of the other members of his team, except perhaps Barry. The way she looked at him had a certain weight to it, of that much, Chris was certain. Although he was desperate to act on it while he still saw it, a fear of ruining his chances and jumping the gun too soon prevented him.

"Capitano is kicking your ass, Redfield!" He also recognized the gruff voice of Barry Burton, followed by his deep laughter. Of course Barry would point out the obvious in front of the team; anything to make Chris look like he wasn't as strong as he made out to be. Clutching his side, he rolled his eyes, making a mental note to take a stab at fighting Barry later. Chris'd show him how strong he was.

"Had enough, Redfield, or shall I keep this up?" Wesker could hardly contain thesmugness in his voice. Chris turned to face him, narrowing his eyes. Wesker smirked at him. Chris hadn't landed a single punch on him.

"I'm just having a bit of a slow day, is all." He said, defensively. "But I'm not finished yet." He said, straightening.

"Oooh, tough man, tough man." Barry taunted. Chris flexed his arms, hearing the bones in his elbow crack. He had a stitch in his side, and he was pretty sure he was going to have a golf ball sized lump on the back of his head where it had hit the wall. Wesker had taken several steps back and was stretching his arms out.

He cocked his head to the side and smirked at Chris again. "As you wish."  
>Chris returned the defiant smirk, and ran at Wesker, swinging his arm forwards to land a punch in Wesker's face, but his captain easily dodged the hit, pushing Chris's arm aside and landing a punch with his other hand dead in Chris's middle. He doubled over in pain, gasping for breath. Wesker put a hand on Chris's shoulder and brought his knee up hard into Chris's chest, then grabbed him by the front of his shirt and threw him backwards. Chris hit the ground and rolled, finally skidding to a stop against the wall.<p>

"Okay, okay!" He gasped, raising his arm to the general direction in which he thought Wesker stood. "No more. I'm done." He heard Barry laugh. But over that, he heard Jill call to him, asking if he were alright. Despite the aching pains all over his body, this made him feel marginally better. Maybe she'd give him a massage later, he thought hopefully. _ You're dreamin' pal._

Wesker walked over to him. "Now have you had enough?"

Barry laughed from his spot against the far wall. He and Jill had been leaning against it, watching Chris and Wesker train. Chris' annoyance rose, and he thought Barry had laughed quite enough for that day.

Chris heaved himself into a sitting position, clutching his stomach. "Yeah yeah." He sighed, looking away. Wesker stopped once he stood in front of Chris. He looked at him a moment, and then offered his hand to Chris, who took it. Wesker pulled him to his feet, and Chris was surprised at his strength. _He _is_ stronger than me_, Chris thought, although he would never say it out loud.

"You'll improve in time, Chris. You have the potential." Another smirk, before turning to leave. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

* * *

><p>"You're obsessing."<p>

"I'm _not_ obsessing," Chris said with a wince. Sitting half slouched, half bent over in the coffee shop down the street, he creased his brows as an ache went through the darkening bruise on his side.

The two were sitting at a table towards the window with steaming cups of Hazelnut Cream coffee in front of them. Training had been completed for the day, and the effects of the practice fight with Wesker were really making themselves felt. Jill, who had fought Brad, had sustained no injuries, owing partially to the fact that she was so agile in dodging his attacks, and partially because, Chris suspected, Brad hadn't wanted to hit the only girl.

"Then stop talking about it." She said with a smirk. Leaning against the chair, she had her arms crossed and smiled smugly at him. Chris scowled and pretended the bruises didn't faze him as he sat forwards to sip from his coffee.

_ I'm going to ache for weeks, and he's just gonna keep smirking at me if I show it. Asshole._

"I haven't fought anyone in a while, that's the only reason he beat me up so easily." He said as he sipped. Jill gave him a skeptical look, and twirled the cup jacket around the cup. Chris was feeling fidgety and nervous; was it really so abnormal to be obsessing so heavily over a test fight with his Captain?

"Uh huh."

"I'll get him just wait." Drinking from the steaming cup, Chris pulled a face. "What is this shit?" Jill laughed.

"Hazelnut, it's delicious."

"It tastes the way Christmas smells."

* * *

><p>The S.T.A.R.S. common room was unusually quiet that evening, and Chris had written it off to everyone being so exhausted from their physical drill work all week. Both Wesker and Enrico, the Bravo captain, had been testing their members to see where they fit best in the team. While Chris felt he had done terribly on the written paperwork, he felt he had at least proven something in fighting Wesker. Still aching from the first fight, he was determined to challenge Wesker tomorrow.<p>

_ I proved I don't back down for anyone._ He thought, stubbornly. _Oh, but you did._ Replied the annoying voice in the back of his mind. Sighing, he adjusted himself on the couch. Not wanting to linger alone in the Alpha room, he had decided to sit here and find out what he could from Bravo about their training. This, however, had proven a fruitless exercise, as the only company he had was the bubbling of a fishtank that someone had thought would be a more comfortable addition to the room.

Throwing away the training manual he had been reading, Chris rose gingerly to his feet. The bruise on his side protested at the movement, and he had to pause before walking over to the Alpha common room door. It squeaked as he pushed it open, and closed with a soft thud. More silence greeted him here, broken only by the ever-droning hum of the air circulation system.

Sighing to himself, Chris resigned to the evening alone, with nothing much to do but flip through old magazines of weaponry information, and dwell on the dull throbbing which accompanied his wounds. A thought crossed lazily through his mind of the hot tub which sat in the corner of the pool room. Meant to give some reprieve after several hours worth of laps in the pool, the hot tub was frequented the most by Jill, who enjoyed resting in there after she had finished in the cool water.

_ It'd help_. Chris thought, and craving some way to improve the quality of his bruises, went and grabbed his swimming trunks, then made his way to the bubbling hot water.

Lowering himself slowly, he settled in amongst the steaming water, leaning against the back of the tub and letting his eyes drift shut. Sitting in peaceful silence, Chris was halfway asleep when he heard a loud splash.

With a jolt, he sat up in the pool, only to see a long, lean figure moving its way gracefully across the pool. The steam rising from the hot tub was at least partially concealing Chris, and he moved as silently as he could to lean forwards to investigate the shape in the pool. Identifying the figure was near impossible, as they swam so fast and smoothly that Chris couldn't even tell if it was Jill or not.

He watched intently as the figure front-stroked two…four…eight…twelve laps in remarkably fast time. It was only once the figure paused at the opposite end of the pool to catch their breath, that Chris realized with a thrill of excitement that it was Wesker. A grin slid onto Chris' face, and disappeared almost as quickly as it had come.

_ What the fuck is wrong with you?_ Shooting his eyes away from Wesker and slouching down in the hot water again, Chris frowned and found himself deeply concerned with his initial reaction. The only other person he got excited about finding himself in a room alone with like that was Jill…_but that's fucking stupid, that's because Jill's hot. You don't think Wesker's hot, you fucking moron, you just…_

Oh, oh but you _do_ think Wesker's attractive, the nasty voice in the back of his head said; the voice that seemed more and more to be leading Chris into discomfort.

_ Yes, well, so what, that doesn't mean… _

But what did it mean? What did it mean, Chris wondered, that the few times he'd found himself alone with is captain he'd been excited and nervous and anxious to impress him.

Chris shut his eyes tightly, and began thinking about guns and ammo, and put all his energy into not thinking about the sounds of the water, as his captain moved gracefully through it. This was a successful tactic for the next half hour, his thoughts being interrupted by periodic pauses of the splashing water.

Chris fought the urge to turn around and watch his captain swim, and he managed to resist…but once he heard the sounds of Wesker getting out of the pool, Chris's resolve broke. As quietly as he could, Chris leaned forwards to peer over at Wesker through the steam. His captain was facing away from him, and had walked over to the bench where the towel sat.

As Wesker was patting his face off, Chris's eyes trailed down the muscular outline of his captain's back, feeling a burning in his face and the guilt creeping up again, but found himself unable to look away, just as he had felt the first day on the subway.

Wesker moved the towel up to his head and brushed it over his hair, momentarily displacing it, until a strong hand was run through it, putting it back into it's perfect condition. Chris briefly panicked at the idea of Wesker turning around and seeing him, but he didn't. He just walked straight over to the change room and disappeared inside, leaving a pink-faced Chris sitting amongst bubbling hot water, and feeling very confused indeed.

* * *

><p>Finnnn~~~ this chapter at least.<br>Review/comment, and I promise on the happiness of my future that I will update within two to three weeks. I ~swear~.


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